


Petrichor

by VioletThePorama



Category: Sam & Max
Genre: Angst, Basically I whump Max some cuz I crave more fanfiction, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Max freaks out in storms ever since sam got those powers, Post-Canon, They're always dating sorry, one of them is going to get hurt too, thats a warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2020-09-27 15:17:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20409910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletThePorama/pseuds/VioletThePorama
Summary: He knows he isn't one to talk, but Sam worries sometimes.





	1. Sleeplessness

Max jolted awake to the sound of thunder, paired with a bright flash of lightning that affronted his eyes in the otherwise dark room. His head hit the ceiling, and he only just kept from crying out. Instead of letting the noise escape, Max slapped a hand over his mouth, and slowly climbed down the ladder of the bunk bed with his other hand. He was too shaky to get down any quicker without falling off, and his limbs weren’t reacting quite right to anything, so slower was best. 

At the bottom rung, Max gave pause and looked at Sam. The dog was on his back with the covers kicked off of his legs. Occasionally, his foot twitched. Drool pooled at his pillow. 

Max relaxed a bit at the sight, taking his hand away from his mouth and gripping the ladder with both hands, up until the next bout of thunder roared and startled him off of the last step of the ladder. Quickly, before the whine bubbled out of his throat, he went to the door and ducked into the living room. 

Despite his carefulness with the door, it creaked audibly, and the lagomorph gave it a moment, waiting to see if he had woken up Sam. When he heard nothing, he continued on to the TV. Max switched it on and turned the volume down most of the way. Then, he went over and pressed his head close to the speakers. 

The noise from the show drowned out the sound of rain hitting the roof, but the thunder seemed to shake the whole building, to where Max was  _ sure _ that he could feel it in his core, just as real and as close as the occasional little static shocks from Sam’s fur. 

When the _thunder_ roared, Max could taste ozone, and when the _wind_ blew against the windows, and their office walls creaked under the pressure, Max felt **_sick_**, deep down in his stomach, and when _lightning_ flashed across the sky, in long, tendril-like volts, Max swore that he could see the _dazzling_ light of an explosion in the sky, even when he squeezed his eyes shut. 

The sound of an explosion going off sounded in his ears, far too close and far too loud, and the suddenly the excited cry of voices sounded more like panicking citizens, and  _ his heart raced _ .

Then, a brief lull in the storm. 

Max breathed heavily, gasping for air before he was 

_ dragged _

_ down _

_ again _

…

He barely managed to suck in a breath before a weight dropped into his hands, and something heavy pressed against his chest, keeping him from intaking air. He held a remote because  ** _he had to do it himself_ ** , and the button materialized under his fingers, large and enticing, and _ hepressedit  _ and _ Samsmiledathim _ \- 

** _And_ ** -

**B O O M !**

____________________

Sam woke up regrettably slowly, first roused by some distant and muffled noise, and then a bit more by the thunder. He sat up slowly, trying to isolate the source of the first noise, but found that it had stopped. Slowly, he lay back down.

Just as he was halfway to passing out again, he heard his name called. 

Before he was even aware of what he was doing, Sam was up and out of his and Max’s room, looking around the living room for his little pal. There - pressed against the TV stand was Max, huddled up and sobbing something. A horrible keen was coming from his partner, and Sam was by his side in seconds, looking him over for an injury. 

It looked like Max had bitten down on his paw earlier, and there was a thin trail of blood leaking from some teeth marks there. Otherwise he seemed unharmed. Sam moved to draw him closer, before the lagomorph turned and banged his head against the TV stand. 

“Max!” Sam called, grabbing him. He got no response, other than some struggling and a sharp flinch when thunder sounded in the background. 

Alright. 

Sam quickly deposited Max on the couch, covering him with a blanket so he couldn’t go to bite his hands again. Then the dog covered all of the windows with some rather dirty and suspect looking curtains that had probably been there since they’d bought the place. He took an extra minute to locate some earbuds and a music player The Geek had once given to him. 

Then, he swept back to Max, who hadn’t moved since Sam had dropped him there, and pressed the earbuds into Max’s ears. He played some mindless music, and turned the TV off, sure that the demolition show, while interesting. Probably wasn’t going to help anything. 

He sat on the couch and pulled Max into his lap. 

The dog stroked the top of his partners’ head, just between the ears, and held him firmly with his other arm. 

Very slowly, Max seemed to come back to himself. He shook a bit more and let out a sob as he finally moved to cling back to Sam. 

The dog watched as Max tore one of the earbuds out. 

“Sam?” The lagomorph asked the dog’s shirt, his voice hoarse and his breathing quick and shuddering. 

Sam swallowed. “Right here, little buddy.”

Max burrowed closer. 

Sam stayed with him for the rest of the night, listening to the faint music leaking from the earbuds, and the muffled gasps and whimpers that came from Max up until the storm subsided. 

When the wind stopped, and the patter of rain finally left, Max practically melted against him in relief. Then, he slept. 

Sam stayed awake, pondering the reasons for his partners panic. He had an idea.

He didn’t like it. 


	2. Chapter Number

Max woke up with earbuds pressed into his ears, nuzzled up against Sam’s warmth. He shifted and looked at the dog, who was staring off into space. Slowly, the rabbit sat up, shifting away from his partner. 

Sam looked down at him. “Hey Max. I’m glad you’re up, but can you please stop digging your knees into my thighs?”

“No can do, Sam,” Max said. “What exactly happened last night? We don’t usually pass out on the couch unless we’ve gotten ourselves hammered. It isn’t Tuesday!”

“Well… I think the storm freaked you out,” Sam started, looking away as Max got off of his lap. 

“That’s dumb,” Max jumped in. “You  _ know _ how I love to dangle myself off of metal rods during lightning storms.”

“... I sure do, little buddy.”

Max took the earbuds out, tossing them onto the couch and walking into the kitchen. He dug out and ate the last Glazed Macguffin they had as he pondered over what Sam had said. The storm part of it seemed reasonable enough, but…

He reached for a Kid Cuisine they had hiding away at the back of one of their cabinets, and paused when the skin on the back of his hand pulled and stung. Max scratched at it, turning his palm over to inspect it further. It looked like bite marks. 

Best not to let Sam know, if he hadn’t already seen it. Judging by his reactions, he probably already had. 

He wiped his hand off on his fur and walked back out to Sam, who was still plastered onto the couch, looking worried and apprehensive, much to Max’s dismay. Sam  _ really _ didn’t need to worry (or  _ think _ ) about it. 

“Wanna go eat?” Max asked, and Sam shrugged. The dog was probably trying to be discreet about how he watched Max, but he really wasn’t. Time to lay on the bunny charm. “We could go to that donut place. You know the one, over on the corner?”

“Weren’t you banned from there?”

“Nope,” Max said with conviction. Then, with significantly less conviction. “Unless that was the place with the baby…”

“I thought the place up the corner was the one with the granny…”

They paused, and Max hoped that he wasn’t just imagining that it was less tense than before. 

“Why not just go to Stinky’s?” Sam asked. Max could think of a lot of reasons why not to, and really, that just made the idea more fun. 

“Alright,” Max grinned, jumping up and waiting while Sam got dressed. Then, they went to Stinky’s and ate roughly 6 healthcode violations. 

The food was hazardous, as always, and left Max gagging and sick and elated by the thrill of the bad food and the back and forth bickering with Sam. 

The absence of Girl-Stinky taking their order and calling them by the wrong name was weird and off-putting, but Max was learning not to ask. 

Later, on the way back to their office, a phone at a booth rang. 

Sam and Max paused, looked at each other, and then raced for it. 

“I got it!” Max yelled, and Sam shoved him off to the side. Max ran into the wall of a nearby store while Sam bolted for and answered the phone. 

“Really? A Toblerone? He left it  _ where _ ? I see. Wow. See you!” Sam hung up. Max peeled himself off the wall and stumbled over to him.

“Was that the Commissioner?” He asked, shaking his head to clear the dizziness. 

“Well it sure wasn’t my sweet old grandma,” Sam answered. “The Commissioner said he had a potential drug bust for us. Simple routine stuff, really.”

“Do we get to keep the goods?” Max asked, grinning. 

“If by goods you mean the drugs, only if you ask  _ really _ nicely.”

Max grinned and grabbed Sam’s tie as they walked back to the office to look over what they knew about the building. They would form a vague plan, which always boiled down to ‘ _ shoot out _ ’ or ‘ _ throw Max _ ’. 

Man, Max loved his job sometimes. 

  
  



	3. Something Bad Happens

Sam ducked behind a crate as bullets whizzed overhead. A few lodged themselves into the wood of the crate, and Sam took a moment to load a new round of bullets into his gun and to count how many goons were left. 

He and Max had originally misjudged how many people there were in the dilapidated warehouse. Aside from that, the shoot-out was going rather well.

A few of the drug dealers had fled when the duo had arrived, guns ablazing. They had appeared to have been in the middle of some sort of transaction, with crates and guards and the whole shebang. Maybe fourteen were left after the guards outside had been dealt with, and the first few had run off. After he had lobbed Max at them, around ten were left on their feet, with the others being down but seemingly still alive, if their groans were anything to go by. 

A presence settled next to Sam with a maniacal laugh, as the dog turned to face where the surplus of bullets was coming from. Acting quickly, he raised the barrel of his gun up over the create and fired a few rounds before ducking back down. 

“Nice one, Sam! You nailed that guy.”

“Thanks little buddy,” Sam replied, peeking around the side to make sure his count of nine was correct. “It’s all in the wrist.”

One more tore off from the group, dragging the goon Sam had just shot to the side. 

Eight.

“Think I can hit two guys with one bullet?” Max asked, leaping out and shooting at another. 

Seven. 

“It’s worth a shot,” Sam shrugged. 

Max left his side, and Sam darted to another set of boxes, shooting aimlessly to draw some fire off the lagomorph while he tried out his plan. Then, as he dropped to his knees and watched a bullet whizz by, he heard twin grunts. 

Five. Guess Max was a better shot than he thought. 

Sam popped up and shot one of the remaining ones in the leg. She went down hard. 

Four. 

In the distance, Sam heard a faint rumble of thunder. For a split second, she was brought back to the night before, and he moved to find Max. Then, he heard a shriek of delight and a yell over to his left and he relaxed. He moved to the side of the box and shot another goon, and then a second one, moving to his right as they turned at him, spitting insults that he could barely hear over the sound of the bullets and the thunder echoing off again in the distance. 

One.

The remaining member stumbled back, and nearly tripped over one of their passed out gang members. Sam stepped closer to him. 

“Hold on there pal, we’re the freelance police, and we have a few questions for you.”

“Yeah! Since you’re the only one will alive and all that,” Max rushed over and shoved the gun out of the goons hands. “Sam, can I break his kneecaps?”

“That depends on whether or not he’s cooperative. We really need-” Sam responded, and was drowned out by the roar of thunder overheard, much closer than it was just a moment before. 

To his side, Max froze. Sam moved closer to him, keeping his gun trained on the remaining gang member so he wouldn’t get any ideas. 

Then, in sync with the next crash of thunder, pain blossomed in his leg, and then again in his side, and with his next step (stumble), he hit the ground. 

Sam found himself dazed as he tried to make sense of it, but everything  _ hurt _ , and even the slightest shift made pain shoot up his back and leg and  _ head _ . He heard noises off to the side. They sounded like yells, or maybe thunder, or maybe it was  _ Max _ .

He tried to sit up, and yet another noise was added to the mix. It took him an awfully long time to realize it was coming him his mouth. 

Sam needed to get it together. He’d been shot before, but…

Things began to come back with a bit more clarity. There was a gunshot before some thunder, and Sam turned, trying to focus on the blurry white image of his friend. After a minute, it came into focus, splattered with red and hunched over something. 

Sam tried talking again, focusing on his words, but Max either wasn’t paying attention yet, or nothing comprehensible was leaving Sam’s mouth. 

Clumsily, slower and slower with every movement, he fished his phone out of his pocket and pressed the last number he had texted. 

Something bright flashed across the sky just before his eyes rolled back into his head. 


	4. Sybil To the Rescue.... As Usual

Max stepped away from the goon on the ground, white fur splattered in blood that wasn’t his own. The offender had been one of the ones who had split off earlier, and had returned only to cause more trouble for the Freelance Police. The rest of the people who had been involved in the dealings had either left, hopefully for good, or were injured where he and Sam had left them.

But the goon in front of him wouldn’t be causing trouble anymore.

The lagomorph bodily flinched at the next crash of thunder, the sound echoing through the old building and reverating through his skull. It was loud and deafening through the pounding of blood through his ears. 

Max couldn’t quite remember moving, but before he knew it, he was standing over the heap on the ground that was Sam. There was a flash of lightning, and through his tunnel vision, Max could see the blood pooling underneath his friend. 

He worked slowly, hands stiff and shaky as he tore at Sam’s shirt and pressed the bunched up fabric on the bullet wound. Max couldn’t yet bring himself to properly look at it, and covering it up for the moment was the next best option. He just couldn’t focus on something so serious while everything was still a bit too bright and sharp, and the noises of rain and thunder and Sam’s name being called were too loud and overpowering-

_ Sam’s name being _ -?

Max leaned back, and in the light of another lightning bolt, he found Sam’s phone, glinting on the floor near one of Sam’s hand-paw-things. He held up the device, smearing blood over the screen as he pulled it close and listened to Sybil bark questions on the other end. 

He must have answered at some point, because the next thing he knew, he was moving Sam onto his side, and Sybil was walking him through something, although he couldn’t make out the words. In the next instant, Sam’s tie was wound tightly around the bullet wound on his leg, and Sybil was standing nearby with a flashlight. 

  
The only thing Max could really process at that moment was the blood-slick feel of his fur, the fact that he was shaking almost too hard to walk, the pounding of the rain, and the memory of what had happened to Sam the  _ last _ time were on a mission during a  **storm** . 

And then they were in a car.

Sybil talked at him, and he could only just keep himself from threatening (swiping _ bitinghissingclawing _ ** _shooting_ ** ) her to shut her up, so he curled up on himself and leaned against Sam as his dog friend slowly bled out. 

_______________________

Getting a phone call was something out of the ordinary for Sybil. She got several dozens a day, and sometimes, she got upwards of a hundred. She made just as many.

Calls from Sam were typically nothing noteworthy, as he often called at random intervals during the day, when he forgot things, wanted something, or was just generally out to annoy her. 

However, it was rather unusual that he wasn’t answering her after  _ he _ had been the one to call in the first place. In addition to this being incredibly aggravating, it was quite worrisome, especially when she couldn’t even make out the usual shouts or taunts that came from Max, or the general noise of chaos that followed the two of them wherever they went. All she could hear was the distant rumble of thunder.

“Sam?” Sybil called. She would have hung up already, if she were a bit less worried, and if she weren’t procrastinating her new job of odor testing. The barrage of scents she was having to smell were giving her a headache, but she had to persevere. She had only just started the job after all.

She was just going to have to persevere… later.

For a moment, there was silence on the other end. Then, a distant yell.

Sybil hesitated before calling Sam’s name again, more worried than she had been a minute ago. 

When she received no answer, she went over a few things in her head. It was only five in the afternoon. It was storming (she could hear another part of the storm outside of her house, but it was a bit difficult to differentiate from what was outside, and what noise was coming from the call). And Sam and Max hadn’t informed her of any world-ending events happening within the last few days. 

Just in case, she shot Mama Bosco a warning that something was up. 

Sybil was very concerned by the time the phone finally got picked up. To her dread, it was Max.

Sybil had known the two of them long enough to be aware of their little song and dance in regards to who answered the phone. Max never got there first. 

Getting answers out of the bunny was like pulling teeth, which, in her experience, was truly difficult. ( _ Can Sam answer the phone? Okay. Is he hurt? Are you? _ ) Eventually, she had enough information to drive over and pick them up, dragging Sam and coaxing Max into her car and away from the mess they had left in the old warehouse. Then, she took them to the scientist. 

In her rear view mirror, she could see Max pressing up against Sam. She noted the way he grabbed at the dogs suit, and the occasional flinch that followed a crash of thunder, but Sybil said nothing of it. 

Once at Mama Bosco’s house, and once Sam was loaded onto a gourney, Sybil finally took a chance to give the two of them a once over. Sam, miraculously, still had his hat. The dog was bleeding rather heavily, and Sybil only hoped that he and the clone that Mama Bosco still had squirreled away in her lab, had compatible blood types. Max, though conscious, looked only moments away from passing out. He was teetering and looking around wildly, like he thought there might still be somebody left for him to fight. 

Sybil would have to tread lightly. 

“Oh my,” Mama Bosco exclaimed, peeling pieces of Sam’s wadded up shirt back from one of the bullet holes. Max shifted closer to Sam, and Sybil worried her lip before taking a breath.

She had been a therapist before, she could deal with a crazed and angry lagomorph. No big deal.

“Hey Max,” Sybil called, waiting a moment for him to look at her. When he didn’t, she went on. “You’ll have to stay out here when Mama Bosco takes Sam in for surgery.”

That Max’s attention in an instant. He stepped back closer to where Sam lay prone, and bared his teeth and his gun. Sybil sighed. 

“Put that away,” Mama Bosco snapped, and Max wordlessly turned it on her. “Don’t take that attitude with me, mister! Who’s going to help Sam if you shoot me?”

Reluctantly, the gun went away, and Sybil hesitated for a moment before going to whatever constituted as a kitchen for the lab. She put on some hot chocolate, and measured out and poured some sleeping pills (never leave home without them!) into the dark liquid. Then, she stirred the drink and walked back into where Max was still refusing to leave Sams side. 

“Drink this,” Sybil urged. “It’ll help.”

The rabbit took the mug from her as she pressed it into her hands. He peered into it slowly and looked at her.

“Is it drugged?”

Sybil nodded. 

“Oh thank god,” Max said, downing the contents of the mug. 

Mama Bosco stared for a moment, watching Max hit the floor, cradling the mug to his stomach. Then, she shrugged and wheeled Sam into the next room over. Sybil went about wrapping a blanket around Max in the way that Sam had taught her, where the rabbit would be too tangled up to maim whatever or whoever woke him. 


	5. Waking Up

Sam woke up with a deep ache radiating through his body. When he moved, the ache turned into something burning hot and painful. 

He sat up, swallowing back an embarrassingly animalistic whine. Then, he looked around, searching for-

“ _ Max _ -!” Sam called, leaning forward and pressing a hand to his side. Max jumped up from where he was sitting and raced over, stopping just short of barreling into him. Behind him, The Geek stood up, grasping some papers. 

“Sam!” Max yelled in return, clambering onto the bed, which was unfamiliar and definitely not the one in their bedroom, and sitting next to him. “How’s the linear progression of time working out for you?”

Sam grumbled something unsuitable for children’s ears, and immediately regretted it upon spotting Geek’s face scrunch up as she came closer and stopped at the edge of the bed. 

“Maybe later, big guy,” Max hufed, pushing Sam back in the bed. Then, he picked at Sams shirt, and the dog became aware of the bandages lining his torso. After a moment, he recognized that he had some on his leg as well.

“Sam,” Sybil called over from where Max and The Geek had been. “It’s good to see you awake.”

“And ruining our Scrabble game,” Momma Bosco sighed. 

Sam instinctively pulled Max closer as the lagomorph pushed underneath his arm to lay closer up to his chest. Then he gave Geek a confused look, watching the girl as she laid papers out on the bed and climbed up next to Max.

“... What happened?” The dog asked. 

“You were shot,” The Geek said, at the same time that Max declared, “I won Scrabble!”

Sam blinked at the two new pieces of information. He probably  _ had _ been shot, which would explain all the bandages and pain, but Max winning Scrabble just seemed too out there. He remembered a brief flash of guys at a warehouse, and the sound of thunder. He remembered shooting and- it clicked together.

Sam inhaled sharply. 

Max pressed against him, and the gentleness of it seemed almost apologetic. The Geek pressed closer, pausing only briefly when he lifted his other arm, before she hugged him from his other side. Only once he had both of them neatly tucked under his arms, did he turn his attention to Sybil and Momma Bosco. The former was still sitting a ways away, but shot him a pleasant smile. The latter focused more on the machine he was hooked up to rather than him. 

“So… We didn’t go to the hospital?” Sam hazarded a guess. They usually did, on the rare occasion that one of them lost consciousness to something other than Max’s stupidity. The lagomorph shrugged against him. 

“Why go to the hospital when we can get a friends and family discount?”

“We don’t get a friends and family discount,” Sam chided. “We get up-charged.”

The dog considered trying to sit up again, but found that even just laying there made him feel tired and achy, so he stayed laying down as Momma Bosco turned to him.

“Sybil was actually the one to bring you in,” she informed him, and Sam frowned, vaguely remembering calling somebody before he blacked out. He couldn’t remember anything past that, however. And if it  _ had _ been raining during the shoot out, a weather phenomenon that Max was apparently opposed to…

_ Ah. _

Max stilled at his side, his usual twitching pausing for just a moment. Sam didn’t mention it. Instead, he shifted enough to look back at Sybil.

“Thanks for that. I can’t imagine that it was fun to have a smelly wet beast covered in blood,  _ and me _ in your car.”

Sybil looked dryly amused. “Just don’t let it happen again, please.”

“I’ll try,” The dog promised, laying back. He pulled Max and The Geek closer, and rested his head on the pillow. 

Some more sleep wouldn’t hurt...


	6. Of Teen Angst And Therapy

When Sam came to, he was in a much more familiar room. That is, he was in his bedroom, which was used approximately three times a week. The other days of the week alternated between him and Max passing out at Stinky’s diner, or spending the night in the Desoto when they were on a mission, or just too lazy to walk back into the building. 

He tried to sit up, and found that his wound was  _ somewhat _ less painful than before, though he was just as, if not more, sore. Briefly, Sam considered calling for Max, but he was ripped from that train of thought by Geek creaking the door open and walking in. He shifted to look at her, biting back a groan of pain. 

“Sam?” She looked up sharply at the stifled noise and dashed over to the bed. “Does your stomach still hurt?”

The dog managed a nod. He felt dizzy and not all there, and pain blossomed in his side whenever he took too deep a breath, so he switched to shallow, stuttering ones. 

“And your leg?”

Sam paused for a moment before humming in confirmation. His head was clearing some, and he felt a  _ lot _ less loopy than he had before, but there was still the vague cloudiness of pain that had settled in his body. 

The Geek nodded and poured something from a bottle into her hand. Then, she smeared it in peanut butter. 

They were pills then. Gross.

Sam resisted as she offered the medicine to him, turning away as much as he could without moving. It was only the Geeks threat of having Max come in to give him the pills that made him accept the medicine. 

He smacked on the peanut butter as she stepped back and watched him. ( _ mlem mlem mlem _ )

“Max passed out on the couch,” The Geek told him matter-of-factly. “He hasn’t been sleeping well.”

Sam took a moment to lick up the rest of the peanut butter before responding. “Has he been having nightmares?”

“I think so,” She replied, glancing back at the door to the room. “Sybil’s been coming over a lot the last few days… I think you and Max need to talk about some stuff.”

Sam nodded, feeling a flash of guilt pass through him. “Sorry, Geek. You shouldn’t have to deal with our angst riddled drama. Teen angst should be your thing to explore.”

She gave a noncommittal shrug that just made him feel worse. He scrambled to remember if there was anything to comment on academics-wise. 

“How’d that math test go?” The dog hazarded. It seemed to work, and The Geek lit up.

“I got a 98%. Momma Bosco helped me practice derivatives.” 

Sam blinked and nodded, pretending he remembered what those were. His scientist daughter smiled ruefully and reached over to pet his head.

“It’s alright,” She said, sounding mischievous. “I know you and Max barely passed high school. Anyway, I’ll send him in next time you’re awake.”

“I was in robotics,” Sam whined defensively, and watched as she left the room. Then he leaned his head back and passed out again. 

When he woke again, he felt something warm curled up against his warm. When Sam took stock of his injuries and found that his side and leg  _ ached _ but didn’t actively hurt, he took the chance to crane his head and look at whatever was next to him. The dog was far from surprised to see Max holding onto his arm with his head tucked into the crook of Sam’s inner-elbow. 

He moved a bit, trying to get the feeling back in his arm so he could pull Max closer. The rabbit stirred and looked at him, jerking more fully awake and sitting back as Sam blinked at him. 

“You okay, little buddy?” Sam asked. His voice came out raspier than he had anticipated, and he murmured his hoarse thanks after Max wordlessly reached out of Sam’s line of sight and offered him some water. 

“Just peachy, Sam. You?”

“Could be better,” He responded once he’d gotten the dryness out of his mouth. “A little Geek told me you were having nightmares… Do you mind helping me sit up?”

“I do mind,” Max said, but propped Sam up on pillows anyway. 

They sat in silence for a long moment, and Sam reached and poked at his injured side a few times, wincing with every prod. Yep. Those were bullet wounds alright. 

“We’re really bad at this,” Sam sighed, once Max was bored enough to start poking holes into the bedsheets. He got a huff in response. “Really, you can tell me what’s been bothering you-”

“Who said I wanted to talk to  _ you _ about it?” Came the sullen reply. 

“Me,” It took a moment for Max to look back at him, and when he did, Sam reached over and took him by the wrist, tugging him closer. When Max was settled against him again, he continued. “The Geek seemed to think so too.”

“Is it not enough that my completely ‘platonic’ friend with whom I share custody over my daughter got shot? Can’t that be what’s bothering me?” Max lamented dramatically. Sam flicked him and Max gave a horribly sad sigh that made Sam hug him closer. “... It was just the storm… Then you got shot because I was distracting you-”

“You’re always distracting me, watermelon head. That isn’t really a new thing.”

“It’s  _ different _ ,” Max spat, and Sam placed his hand on Max’s noggin. Then he turned the dumb little lagomorphs head to face him. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Sam told him. Then he paused. “This one wasn’t your fault, anyway. You said it was the  _ storm _ ? What-”

“The other timeline,” The rabbit explained, rushed out and hurried. He averted his eyes from the dogs face, and shoved Sam’s hand away from his head. “That’s all.”

“ _ Oh _ ,” The dog murmured, and wrapped his arm around Max, crushing him into his uninjured side. “We really are giant magnets for the angstiest teenage levels of drama and miscommunication, aren’t we?”

“I ate a teenager once, you know.”

“No you didn’t. The Geek said Sybil was here?”

Max laid against him. “She was earlier. I like her better than you.”

“Why’s that?” Sam asked, rubbing the back of Max’s neck. 

“She gave me coffee,” Came the smug reply. Sam betted it was a one time thing. 

“You’ll have a summer wedding. But really? I’ve given you coffee.”

“You didn’t kiss me afterwards,” Max taunted. 

Sam looked at him. “She didn’t kiss you.”

“How do you know that?” Max asked, grinning his wide, toothy grin. 

“I could always ask her about it next time she's by,” He reasoned. 

“She doesn’t have to keep coming by anymore, since you’re up. We can go back to dropping in on  _ her _ unannounced.”

“Well, whether or not she’s coming back here, you’re either going to talk to her about that other timeline, or we’re going to ask her for a list of other therapists she knows about,” Sam said with as much finality as he could.

Max pouted. “I’ll talk to  _ you _ about it maybe. Making me talk to somebody else isn’t fair. I’ll bite them.”

“I’ll talk to them too,” Sam offered. Max scowled and looked at him. 

“You could just give me that kiss.”

“I can do both, little buddy.”

“... And the coffee?”

“Nope.”


End file.
